


i'm a survivor(i'm not giving up)

by filthymouthedslut



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: After Praimfaya, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lots of Thinking, No Madi, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, clarke is alone on earth, clarke needs time, it is currently 2 am, spacekru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthymouthedslut/pseuds/filthymouthedslut
Summary: The first thing Clarke sees when she wakes up is blood. Thick, black blood coating her eyes. She can’t see beyond the dark haze, can’t make out where she is.Or, Clarke is alone after Praimfaya. This is how she deals.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	i'm a survivor(i'm not giving up)

**Author's Note:**

> I choose to ignore the shitshow that is s6 and 7 and instead relive s5. Also, this is my first fic so kudos and comments are very much appreciated<3333

The first thing Clarke sees when she wakes up is blood. Thick, black blood coating her eyes. She can’t see beyond the dark haze, can’t make out where she is.  
She rubs her eyes, trying to get rid of it. Soon, she has blood smeared all over her face- but at least she can see.

Clarke runs an eye over her surroundings, memories fogy as finally, finally the pain hits her like a train. It is all over her body, stabbing amd aching and constant.

She sobs through her teeth as she tries to stand up, legs burning with the effort. Her entire body is one big wound, open and infected. Becca’s lab, Clarke realizes.

She limps toward the table where all her medical equipment lay. Slowly, painfully, she seats herself on it, pain threatening to drag her under.

Clarke carefully peels off her jumpsuit, now stuck to the burns on her body. She screams and cries and begs, but there is no one to help her. No one but her own burnt hands and troubled mind.

She passes out a few times as she tries to debride her burns, then dress them. Clarke catches a glimpse in the mirror too- a map of black and red.

It takes her almost a day to finish cleaning and bandaging the burns. By that time, she’s gulped down enough painkillers that she falls into a restless sleep, plagued by ghosts and the dead.

The next day, she finds food and water. Enough to last her a few months. Eventually, she’ll have to step out and face her radiation-ridden planet.

But for now she sits in the lab, crying as she prods at her legs and arms.

(She doesn’t think about them. They will come later.)

The burns take 2 months to heal completely. It’s agony- but Clarke deals with. She’s dealt with worse.

She runs out of supplies in 3 months. That’s enough time for her to rifle through each and every cabinet in the lab. She finds guns, rifles, rounds and rounds of ammunition. She finds empty books, along with a charcoal and pencils. She finds clothes, heavy and durable.

(She also finds a radio. But now is not the time.)

It’s also enough time for her to fix up the rover. Clarke loads all her supplies into it, making sure she hasn’t missed anything.

She looks back as she sets off, knowing she won’t return for a very long time. She’ll have to travel to find even a drop of water, she knows. So, Clarke waves a silent goodbye to the lab.

For a day she drives, alone with her thoughts. They torment her, unrelenting and restless. But she ignores them because now is not the time.

Only at night, when the stars are bright and her hands are tired, does she pull out the radio.

Clarke stares at it, running over the grooves and ridges with a thumb. Slowly stopping at the big red button.

Why is it so hard?

‘Um. Hello. Hi- Arkers. This is Clarke Griffin. I’m alive-,’ she lets out a hoarse laugh at that, ‘and alright. Please respond if you can hear me.’

She waits with bated breath for a minute, two, three. They can’t hear me.

The thought comes barreling at her with so much force that she forgets how to breathe. Then, like a dam breaking, all her emotions come flooding at once.

She is all alone on this planet, with no one else here. There is no one to talk to, to listen to, to smile to, to help. There is only her- and the people under the ground. She is all alone in this fucking world with her family up in space.

Clarke cries, crumpling to her knees. She sobs for hours, only quieting she she falls into a rough sleep. Thinking of brown eyes and freckles and curls.

The next day is slightly better. She is still overcome with loneliness and terror, but the weight on her shoulders has reduced. Like her breakdown had soothed an edge in her.

Now, she's focused on trying to find water and food. By now, the Earth had started to become green again. Whether it was edible, Clarke had no idea. But she had to try.

She had to try.

It was hard- infinitely so- but Clarke learnt how to survive. She learnt to identify which plants were edible and which were not. She learnt how to set and lay traps to capture the animals that roamed the Earth. She tried to limit the use of her bullets as much as she could, instead relying on ropes and knives.

Clarke found a bunker near one of the sprawling lakes she visited. She decided to claim it, not wanting to sleep in the cramped rover anymore. It belonged to Trikru- their clan symbol was etched into the doorway.

There was a bed, and a basin and that was enough. For now. Because, despite surviving, Clarke had an emptiness in her heart. One that would not go away. It lingered after her daily radio calls to the Ark. It lingered after she caught a three-legged rabbit.

It stained and spread over every little piece of happiness she found in the lonely planet.

A year passed, and Clarke celebrated by whittling a bow and arrow for herself. She had fallen into a routine now. Walk to one of the sites, lay the trap, wash her clothes in the river, take a bath, return to the trap, skin the animal, dump it into her bag, cook it over a flame, and sleep.

The same thing everyday, over and over again. She was going insane. The only thing that helped was her sketches. She drew her family- all of them. Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Monty, Abby.

Clarke drew them all so she wouldn’t forget their faces. But still, her mind was unsettled. With every passing day, she grew more troubled, more uncomfortable.  
Her only respite were her trips in her rover. The open air, the clear skies, the twinkling stars. They called to her, beckoning for her to join them.

So Clarke did.

She had an entire planet to herself! Sharing it with no one except the animals and birds. She could literally do anything she wanted to. And she was sitting here in that fucking cage? Not anymore.

Clarke wanted to travel the world. She wanted to see the green forests, the glimmering oceans, the sprawling deserts. Her heart ached to just run, run free and wild.

To screw all her plans about survival, and just live.

She prepared for her journey, capturing animals, then skinning and salting them to preserve them. There was more than enough fuel to last her a trip around the world. She whittled some more arrows, and knived and daggers. The guns lay at the back of her rover, ignored but not forgotten.

She made brushes out of the fur of a horse’s tail. She crushed berries to create an array of colors. She ground up charcoal, packing it in a box.

Clarke was done with just surviving. She was going to live. She was going to explore and travel and see the fucking world.

The thought made her positively giddy.

She left the radio behind. Clarke wanted a fresh start, with nothing dragging her down from her past. The radio was a constant reminder that she was alone. She didn’t want to be burdened by the past.

So she left it behind, along with a silent prayer that they would be okay. Gone were the days when she clutched it to her chest and pitied herself. She was done, done shedding tears over her past.

She was Clarke fucking Griffin. She was going to live now, free and happy.

True to her word, Clarke lives. Lighter and happier than she’s ever been. She climbs the towering trees, jumping from branch to branch. She swims in the oceans, not having done so since that day way back when Jasper had gotten stabbed.

It’s right for her. Clarke hadn’t known what it was like to not be the leader. To not have to lead anyone. Being alone suits her. Having no one to depend on her, no one to disappoint- Clarke relishes the freedom.

Yet, not all days are easy. Some days she’s crippled with isolation. Misses her family- high above and deep below. She thinks about them sometimes, whether they’re happy. She hopes they are.

But she doesn’t wish they come back down quick. Clarke misses them dearly, yes, but there is still that apprehension. She is aware that the second they do, everything will change. All the anger, the tension, the frustration will come crashing back.

Her freedom will be taken away- no longer will she be able to roam as she pleases.

So Clarke prays that they are happy- but not for them to come back.

Two years pass, and Clarke is thriving. She spends the days liberated, no rules restricting her. She stitches dresses from the fur of the animals she’s skinned. She paints everywhere- the rover, the trees, her books. Clarke finds a tiger cub one day. It had gotten stuck in the branches of a tree.

Not having the heart to kill it, she takes it back to the rover and heals it’s wounds. The cub behaved like a cat, really. He rubs her feet with his head as she walks by, and curls up on her lap as she paints.

She names him Soulou, and makes him a collar with it inscribed. She’s glad to have him with her. Alone- but happy.

Soulou hunts with her, and as he grows bigger, he hunts for her. He drags the carcass of whatever he’s caught and she feeds him half of it. She finds another hut, one situated near the sea, with the forest behind.

Clarke knows immediately that it’s meant to be, and she settles there. Builds a smaller cot for Soulou and lays it with the softest fur she can find. (He never sleeps on it. He always cuddles up near her.)

She sings forgotten songs that Lexa had taught her. Dances to nothing but the wind and leaves but it is everything.

Clarke tells Soulou about Finn and Lexa and Bellamy and Niylah. She tells him all the stories, with all the gritty details. He never judges her. Just nuzzles her cheek with his head. She sings and dances and plays with him, infinitely grateful for her tiger.

The bad days are still there, but they are muted. She grieves for Old Clarke, the one who died with Praimfaya. She looks up at the stars and imagines that Bellamy is looking back down. Her tears fall onto the ground down below, where her other family is.

But Clarke is content with Soulou, the two of them against the world.

Three years pass, and Clarke has changed. Her hair is much shorter now, having chopped it off to shoulder length. She dyes strands of it with berries. It becomes a halo of gold and pink and red and blue and black.

Soulou changes too. He’s almost twice her size now- something she is reminded of when he pounces on her to lick every inch of her face. He brings her other things with the animals. He brings her flowers, delicately held between his teeth so the stalk doesn’t break. He brings her pretty stones, and mushrooms, and berries, and

Clarke wonders what God she pleased to deserve it.

Clarke rubs his belly as she plays with him, and thanks the stars above for her soft tiger.

She breaks her hand and spends a month in agony. Unable to set it herself, it heals a bit crooked and Clarke knows this is dangerous but she can’t do anything. Scars crisscross her limbs, speaking tales of climbing and leaping and diving.

She grows a garden of herbs, coriander and fenugreek and basil. Clarke tends to it while Soulou goes hunting, humming under her breath. She’s not the same Clarke she was 3 years ago. No longer resentful, no longer angry.

Clarke is happy here, with her tiger and her garden and her cottage. She doesn’t yearn to be with the others anymore. She finds comfort in her solitude.

Clarke travels a bit more, mapping the different terrain as she explores. Her notebooks are filled with mountains and seas and flowers. Her hands are nearly always stained with charcoal and paint. She braids flowers into her hair, tying it into a crown.

She does find a crown, hidden under one of the floorboards. It’s more of a tiara really, but it’s gorgeous. Clarke wears it every day, placing it atop her head.

(She really is a princess now. She wished Bellamy were here. She wishes they all were.)

The days bleed into one another, a haze of singing and dancing and drawing. Soulou is huge now, huger than the rover almost. Clarke knows he isn’t supposed to be this big. Another effect of the radiation, she thinks.

Five years pass, and Clarke doesn’t hear a spaceship landing. Doesn’t notice one of the stars go dark. Doesn’t know that five years have gone by.

She continues driving and trekking. She goes farther than she ever has, for months at a stretch, but she always comes back to the cottage. Clarke thinks about them more, dreams about meeting them.

Finally, after six years have passed(but Clarke doesn’t know this), she decides to go back home. To go back to the bunker she almost went crazy in. Because she has lived, and she is ready to meet her past again.

For three days she drives, Soulou napping in the back of the rover. Clarke had cried, just a bit, as she said goodbye to her home.

Mebi oso na a hit choda op nodotaim.

She parks the rover and jumps out, taking in the old memories. She grins to herself, knowing that she is finally home. She makes her way to the old house when she stops dead. There are voices coming from the cabin.

Instantly, she is on alert. She hefts the two rifles high on her arms as she goes to confront its inhabitants. Clarke stopped fearing death a long time ago. If she died now, she would die happy.

So there was no fear in her heart as she stood outside the cabin and fired two shots in the air.

“Get out of the cabin slowly with your arms in the air. Try anything suspicious and I will fire.”

One by one, seven people file outside, hands up and heads down. They are all dressed in thick leathers, the likes of which she hasn’t seen since-

No. NO. It cannot be them.

Before she can say anything, Soulou jumps from behind her, landing near the feet of the tallest. His face shoots up as he assesses the crouching predator.

It is. They came back. They came back.

“Bellamy?” Clarke breathes, heart thundering.

All of them look up at the sound of her voice. They’re back. Raven, Monty, Harper, Murphy, Emori , Echo and Bellamy. They’re here in front of her, faces frozen with shock.

Bellamy takes a step forward but Soulou is there, snarling.

Clarke whistles. “Soulou. Komba hir.”

He withdraws, padding to her. The second he does, the others break out of their reverie. Raven sobs as she says, “Clarke- you’re alive.”

Clarke lets out a hoarse laugh at that. “Looks like I am.”

Bellamy engulfs her that second, body shaking with his sobs. He runs his hands over her hands, her hair ,her face. Like he can’t believe she is here.

But she is. And they are.

They came back.

**Author's Note:**

> Soulou:alone  
> Mebi oso na a hit choda op nodotaim: may we meet again


End file.
